


Deconstruction

by blakefancier



Category: Blake's 7
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-04-25
Updated: 2011-04-25
Packaged: 2017-10-18 16:19:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 524
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/190808
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blakefancier/pseuds/blakefancier
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Blake begins as he means to go on.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Deconstruction

Begin as you mean to go on. Begin as if you mean to win, even if logic states that you cannot win. Avon calls me a fool for giving people hope. But even Avon needs hope, though he may deny it. Why else live when the inevitable is death?

Why else touch?

There are times when I am inside of him and he is close, so very close to the edge, that I can see hope in his eyes. It flares deep in the blackness of his eyes, only to blink out as his orgasm hits. He is so very vulnerable in his armor. My reluctant knight.

I think I could destroy him. I think I could make him a slave to my desires. I already make him do things he doesn’t want to do. He puts my needs before his, time and again. All I have to do is ask (manipulate, he says).

I won’t do it. I won’t bind him to me so tightly that he loses himself in me. I won’t make inconsequential all that he is. The Federation tries that well enough. It is his fire that I love. Another emotion (words, just words) that he scorns, love. And yet, he refuses to speak of his time with Anna.

(She is dead Blake, there is nothing more that you need to know.)

Yes, I do. I need to know. I need to know that memory is not elusive, that it can be called up on a whim, no matter how painful. I need to know that he can call up her image and remember her though she is dead. I need to know so that I can ask him if he will do the same for me.

I need but I shouldn’t.

No, let him keep his secrets. Let him keep the word love locked deep inside. I know what he feels for me. I see it in the hope that lives and dies within a millisecond in his eyes. It is in the familiar gesture of his palm sliding up along my jaw before his lips cling to mine. It is in the way he whispers my name during lovemaking and the way he calls me a fool when we argue.

(Optimist, fool, idealist.)

I should not hope. I should not give hope. But when we argue I want more than anything else to hold him close, to promise him that all will be well. Even if it is a lie. He wouldn’t believe me, but sometimes people need lies.

Sometimes I watch him sleep, flushed and naked in my arms, and wonder. Why? Why is he in my bed? I don’t even think he likes me. Sometimes I think that he only craves the safety I can offer. Because of the Federation there can be no safety in riches. But the rebellion, ah the rebellion. As my companion, no one dare touch him. I suppose that it doesn’t matter. It should be enough that he is here.

I think that we’ll not last much longer. I am hope and hope only lasts for so long in Avon’s eyes.


End file.
